


A Very Cable & Deadpool Christmas

by DoubtingRabbit



Series: Cable & Deadpool's Collection of Fun! [2]
Category: Cable and Deadpool
Genre: Cablepool - Freeform, Christmas Fluff, Guns, Junk Food - Freeform, M/M, christmas in june, frank discussions of fucked up sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 20:34:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7121665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubtingRabbit/pseuds/DoubtingRabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the tin.</p><p>In the tags.</p><p>Whatever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Cable & Deadpool Christmas

Nate was late for Christmas. He'd brought Wade his presents late, but he'd actually worn a damn santa beard when he did it, so it was all forgiven.

No big deal. He'd barely realized it was Christmas anyway, he'd spent the holiday busily crashing various mutant family gatherings. Now he was pretty sure this was a flophouse in some shit city in New York that  _ wasn't  _ New York City (and thus perfectly worthless) and he'd been living here a few months, but this was the first winter.

Was it still winter any more? The AC in the window was on full blast, the sun was up 'til 10, and he'd been sitting around most of the day just a'freeballing it to keep his dick from sticking to his leg.

But the best part of his gift was that Nathaniel Christopher Charles Albus Severus Aksani'son Summers-Pryor-Grey himself promised a good three days of company in his most unknown safehouse. All of them to enjoy the bag of goodies he'd brought. And probably to hide out from some kind of intergalactic and/or intra-chronological heat of some sort. Whatever it was, Wade wasn't fighting it.

Christmas!

And, so far, the first evening had been great. Stripped down to their skivvies. Bags and bags of greasy munchies littered around them, a gallon of Slip 2000 EWL Gun Oil and a brand spankin' new Cabela to-go gun cleaning kit, and the 1996 classic yuletide film, "Santa with Muscles" starring the immortal Wrestling Championship Winner Hulk Hogan,  _ brotherrr! _

Between the two of them, they'd polished off the lot of junk food sitting on Wade's shitty couch, talking smack at the movies on the television while cleaning out their arsenal. The room even looked kind of festive with all the red and green plastic wrappers.

Ah, the sweet domestic life. He'd have made a great househusband.

"You can't cook for shit," Nate reminded him.

He'd said that aloud, hadn't he? "Can so, can so. I microwave a Jamaican patty that will blow your time-traveling socks off."

That got a laugh, and Wade would always settle for that. "Besides, those aren't the only important skills for good housekeeping."

"And what would those exact skills be?" Nate asked, eyes on the tv. And the pointed way he did  _ not  _ look around at what a God-forsaken wreck Wade's place was more than underhanded and passive aggressive and just Cable all over, wasn't it? Would have been better if he'd actually pointed to the curtains on the wall--the ones made out of X-Men animated series beach towels strung up with care, and duct tape.

"Cleaning."   
  
"I just don't breed super viruses by over cleaning."

"But you do breed cockroaches."

"Look, they are purebred German cockroaches, all officially registered with the CAoA, and you will refer to them as such."

"Maintenance--"

"Name one thing in this room that I can't make work with a little bit of gumption."

"--and decorating."

"My style is legendary. Aren't you from some bleak, desolate future, anyway? Shouldn't you just be amazed by the fact that my walls and windows are all intact?"

"Every wall is riddled with bullet holes… but that's actually kind of homey, yeah."

"Well, I know how to lay you, so that's what counts when holding down a sugar daddy," Wade said with the same kind of triumph in his voice as when he'd won the Rock-Paper-Scissors for choosing the first BluRay to crack into.

"Do you now?" Nate asked, but he could hear him getting bored. Or maybe becoming intrigued with the intricate and drama-filled plot twists of Santa with Muscles. Yeah. Probably that.

So, of course, Wade forged onwards.

"Probably the kinkiest guy I know."

That got a snort, but no response.

"Seriously, what the fuck kind of guy looks at someone with Hyperactive Regenerative Disorder and  _ doesn't _ want to see what he looks like split wide open on his massive fuckrod?"

"Holy shit, Wade."

"Oh. Sorry. Choke on his flesh tower? Ride the Tallywhacker Highway to splitsville? Impaled on the one-eyed battering ram? Yeah, you're right. Doesn't matter. Point is, you're fucking weird."

"I'm weird ... because I don't want to hurt you?"

"Yeah."

Nate stopped entirely and turned his big ol' Silver Fox head towards Wade with a look on his face that could only be described by a combination of several Rage Face memes. Or maybe that one of the badass beefcake policewoman from Legend of Korra. You know the one. You're fucking thinking about it right now.

"You-- you make everything feel good. It never hurts. Not once."

"It shouldn't."

"Get the fuck out of town."

And now Nate was staring at him. He'd set down the Remington 700 LSS Ultimate Muzzleloader he was mid-stroke down on the barrel from the chamber when he set it down on the coffee table (milk crates and plywood). Without breaking his gaze, he picked up the remote and put the television on mute.

"I'm serious."

"I'm not."

"Wade."   
  
"Look, it's fucked up that you don't even want to experiment with that shit, okay? That's fucking unnatural. To be so fucking pure as to use your fuckening mutant powers to counteract my bullshit mutant powers entirely? No, no, no, my good Messiah Complex, I know that's unhealthy."

There was a long pause. Their eye contact held.

"You're still not an actual mutant, Wade."

"Seriously."

"Seriously? I seriously don't think pain is sexy. I've been through enough of it--" chrome plated arm tensed slightly, almost  _ compos mentis _ "--to know that I don't care for it. If there's anything I can control, it's what I will and won't do in bed, and that doesn't interest me. At all."

He didn't have to ask what kind of person wouldn't care. He knew better.

" _ Wade _ ."

"What?"

"It's hotter when you're begging me for more."

Slowly he tilted his head, eyes popped wide, and a grin split his direly pockmarked face. "I knew it. You are a giant mech-armed perv."

"Wow."

"Honestly, Nate? That right there? Was the gayest thing I have ever heard you--or anyone--say."

"I'm putting Mr. Belvedere on now. And forgetting this stupid conversation ever happened."

"And I read yaoi manga."

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to NothingEnough for checking my grammar, and everyone who kudos'd the last fic I wrote for enabling me.


End file.
